


Value

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark and Bruce find themselves forced to reevaluate the importance of titles, but even more so, the importance of their sons’ lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Value

**Author's Note:**

> They’re on the Watchtower. Alternate title is ‘Garbage’ because that’s all this is.

The only sounds in the room were the beeping of medical machines. Of Dick’s snores as he and Lois slept in the two unused hospital beds.

The room was bustling, though. J’onn and Barry scurrying in and out, checking pulses and monitors. Kara, with members of the Super and Bat families alike, escorting them to see for themselves. Alfred with food, and a snide comment here or there, to keep the mood a little light.

“There are hospital beds for a reason.” He sniffed, bringing yet another carafe of coffee, and a small flask of whiskey to discretely add to the drinks. “And those reasons are not for Miss Lois and Master Richard to sleep.”

Clark smiled as Alfred put the cups on the table between him and Bruce. “Everyone has said it’s okay.”

“Everyone has also said it’s okay that Master Bruce became Batman, and I’m still not so sure.” Alfred returned coolly. Clark looked over just in time to see Bruce roll his eyes. “And if nothing else, it should be the two of _you_ sleeping in those beds. Let Lois see her son, and Richard see his brother.”

“They can see them just fine from over there.” Bruce grunted, almost pouting.

“When they wake up.” Clark tried instead. “Promise.”

“Hm.” Alfred sighed, straightening and turning away. “For as noble as you are, Superman, I highly doubt that.”

Clark gave the older man his most winning smile even as he walked away, before looking down at the weight across his lap and exhaling.

“I guess we can laugh about it because we know they’re going to be okay.” Clark hummed, pushing Jon’s hair back, and fixing the IV tube dangling from his arm. Jon didn’t react to the movement, just remained slumped against Clark’s chest. Sleeping, peacefully, but only because of the drugs he and Damian had been pumped full with upon their arrival to ward.

“We _don’t_ know that.” Bruce countered, and Clark’s head shot up. His friend was a mimicry of himself – a man with dark circles under his eyes and an injured son cradled in his arms. Along with an IV and all of the bandages, Damian also had an oxygen mask strapped to his face.

Clark blinked and frowned. “Bruce, don’t.”

“They could still die, Clark. Right here in our arms.” Bruce snapped. And Clark knew it was out of worry, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying. “The oxygen tank could malfunction. One of Jon’s injuries could become infected-”

“Bruce.” Clark cut off, voice firm and almost angry. “ _Don’t_.”

Bruce practically curled into himself. Stared down at Damian with a disappointment that Clark knew was aimed at himself.

“…We should have been there.” Bruce whispered, after a moment. “We should have _stopped_ them.”

“…Maybe.” Clark conceded, glancing down at Jon’s face. At the bandage over his eye, and the dark stitches along his jaw.

“This was a _League_ level threat.” Bruce hissed, taking hold of Damian’s hand. The bandages were red with blood, the parts of his fingers that were visible were purple from bruises and shattered bones. Two fingers on that hand were already splinted, and they were waiting for the x-rays to come back to confirm a fracture on a third. “How did they know about it before we did? Before even the _Titans_?”

“Maybe there was a connection to an old foe. Maybe it was the wrong place, wrong time.” Clark shrugged, as gently as he could. “We’ll find out when they wake up.”

“ _If_ they wake up.” Bruce returned harshly. Clark tilted his head forward, stared warningly at his friend. Bruce didn’t look up, but Clark knew he sensed the agitation. And instead of continuing on the morbid path, he sighed, gently stroking one of the bandages on Damian’s knuckle with his thumb. “…We need to stop this.”

“You say that as if we _can_.” Clark mumbled.

“We’re their fathers, of course we can.” Bruce snorted. “We’re here to _ruin the fun_ as Jason likes to tell m-”

Damian suddenly groaned, and shifted. Didn’t wake, not completely, or at all really, but twitched like he was in distress.

“Rock him a little.” Clark offered. “It tends to work for Jon.”

Bruce hesitated, but then slowly slid his arm under Damian’s knees, locked his hands together against Damian’s side, and stood. He swayed gently, waltzing to a beat only Bruce could hear. Damian quickly relaxed, the tension on his face disappearing as he curled back into Bruce’s chest.

“…Us being their fathers might be the problem.” Clark whispered, as Bruce continued to move. “Maybe they wanted to live up to us. Maybe they felt they had to, to make us proud. Or maybe the genes are just that strong. Lois tells me every day how much Jon acts like me. And I know people think the same of Damian and you.”

“Maybe they were trying to _protect_ us.” Bruce sighed mournfully, watching Damian like he was a newborn, like this was the first time they’d ever met. “…I’ve never done this with him before. Rocked him to sleep. Or anything like it.”

“You didn’t get the chance. That’s not your fault.” Clark said gently. “I don’t think Damian holds it against you.”

“…I never wanted him to be Robin.” Bruce hummed. “In general, when Batman started, I’d always have that fantasy of having a family. A far-fetched dream at the time, but I always told myself I would never put my children through this. They would be kept safe and protected, always. In an ideal world, Robin wouldn’t exist. Not for Damian, Dick or any of them.”

“But this isn’t an ideal world, Bruce. Even I’m not that naïve.” Clark chuckled. “And just because you don’t _want_ him to be Robin doesn’t mean that wish is going to get fulfilled _now_.”

Bruce, whose face had been wistful, suddenly frowned, “And why not?”

“They’re not going to stop just because we tell them to.” Clark sighed in exasperation. “Did Dick or Jason? Hell, look at Conner and Tim, and the Titans.” He stopped. “It’s too engrained in their heads. We gave them the morals, and the means to do it, and now they’re probably of the mindset that they can’t stop even if they tried. Hell, deep down somewhere they might think that they’re _failing_ if they don’t keep up with this lifestyle. Even _Jason_ couldn’t stay away, and he had the perfect opportunity to.”

“…Then we can tell them that’s not true.” Bruce whispered. “That we’re proud of them, that they’re good people, even if they don’t do this.”

“…It’s like you just said. This, today? Maybe Jon and Damian were trying to protect _us_.” Clark glanced down, as Jon made a tiny noise in his sleep. “And they can’t protect their dads from the sidelines. That’s probably what they’re telling themselves.”

Bruce, still rocking, turned away, towards the window. “…They overestimate our value.”

“And it’s situations like this that make us realize that we underestimate theirs.” Clark hummed mournfully, gently stroking Jon’s cheek. “…Could you imagine what your life would be without your son?”

“I don’t have to imagine.” Bruce said coldly. “I’ve lived it. Twice.”

“…Right. I forgot.” Clark closed his eyes, remembering that he, too, had lost a son. That Conner had died once, and how could he _forget_ about that? For even a moment? “…Sorry.”

Bruce didn’t respond. Just waited a minute, still swaying Damian gently in his arms. “…So what do we do?”

“We hold them, now. Stay at their side as they recover. Tell them how much we love them when they wake up. Train them harder when they’re ready.” Clark offered. “But mostly…I guess be better fathers. Be better heroes. We save all of Metropolis’s children, and all of Gotham’s. Why don’t we put that same protection towards our own children? Just because they’re…absolutely _amazing_ , doesn’t mean they deserve any less.”

“They deserve more.” Bruce agreed. “…There shouldn’t be a Robin.”

“There shouldn’t be a Superboy.”

“…I think the only way there wouldn’t be a Robin is if there wasn’t a Batman.” Bruce said slowly. “…Or a Superman.”

“Would you give it up, then?” Clark asked thoughtfully. “Would you give up Batman for Damian?”

“Would you give up Superman for Jon?”

Clark hesitated, looked over towards Dick and Lois. “…In a heartbeat.”

“…It wouldn’t be so simple. It’s a catch-22.” Bruce countered. “The only way to protect them would be to give up the titles. But to protect them completely, wouldn’t we need to be out there, actively fighting the bad guys as Batman and Superman?”

“…That’s not an answer, Bruce.” Clark reminded. “Would you?”

“…Yes.” Bruce breathed, ducking down to kiss Damian’s forehead. Lingered there. “Yes I would.”

“Something to consider, then. Maybe.” Clark decided softly.

Bruce straightened. Focused on Damian’s weight in his arms, thought of Jon’s injuries and bandages and blood, as he stared out into space, and watched the world spin beneath them. Listened as Clark struck up a quiet lullaby, and found himself agreeing, surprisingly, to Clark’s thought.

“Yes.” He whispered. “Something to consider.”


End file.
